Chapter 15 Run!
Chapter Fifteen
Run!
Like a mountain of ice cracking in half, the silence split with a creak, then an all-encompassing roar. A collective exhale, as if the ballroom itself had emptied its lungs.
Leather soles struck the stone in staggering percussion that rose to a roar as a herd of well-heeled animals flooded the veranda in an unstoppable stampede.
“Run!” someone screamed as chaos broke loose in an explosion of silk and pearls.
Daisy spun, bolted for the stairs. Her ankle twisted as the slick sole of her shoe slid over polished stone.
Men erupted from the ballroom in an endless, unholy thunder. Expelled from the earth like a geyser from hell.
Shoved and bumped, she instantly lost any sense of direction.
“Go!”
“Move!”
“Help—”
Wedging past bodies that bottlenecked the exit, Daisy jumped without thinking. Her heel struck the pebbled path, sinking and sliding, as her gown split with a brittle crack. Beads scattered like tiny glass teeth. Breadcrumbs for the wolves chasing them down.
Their deafening rolling roar clawed at her back. Daisy looked, eyes wide, heart pounding, and exploded into a run.
The screams melted into an ungodly stew of begging and battle cries.
She didn’t think. She ran. Hard and fast. Pumping her arms until her lungs burned.
Driven by an urgent need to reach safety, she ran without a plan. No idea where she was or what lay ahead.
Her heel caught again, and the world tilted.
Gravel rushed toward her, and she thrust her hands out to protect her face.
The shock of impact traveled up her wrists, into her shoulders as the wind knocked out of her lungs.
The adrenaline pounding through her veins was a sharp anesthetic to the impact of pain.
Her palms, scraped from the wet stone, pushed her back up. Scrambling to her feet, tasting copper, she ran as fast as her legs could manage toward the trees.
Pain. The warm trickle of blood mixing with saliva. The fire in her lungs. None of it mattered. Her arms pumped harder. Relentless. Every breath plunging a white-hot poker down her throat.
Escape was her only thought.
The night flushed into a kaleidoscope of chaos. Masks glinted in torchlight. A constellation of predatory stars crashed like waves into the earth, taking down tributes like lions tackling prey.
Screams and grunts. The collision of soft bodies plowing into hard ground.
Wide eyes gleamed in terror as tributes dispersed into the night like spilled marbles, scattering, tumbling, smashing into objects, and falling into cracks.
A tribute in seafoam chiffon darted past Daisy and collided with a stone urn. That was all it took for a hunter to lunge.
The bell thundered again—a single gong—marking the first conquer. It was actually happening. The vapor of a surreal dream shifted into solid mass, and it was going to crush them all.
“Fuck!” A grunt of pain was swallowed by the fog.
Another tribute rushed by in a flash of crimson, Trisha, maybe. It was impossible to tell. She already vanished into the hedgerow.
How were they moving so fast?
The shoes.
Daisy looked back, but there wasn’t time. The hunters were everywhere. Relentless in their hungry pursuit. Spurred by the chase.
Bare feet slapped the earth as another tribute rushed by.
“There’s one! The blonde!”
Daisy shifted directions, lunging for the closest shadowy cover.
The gardens received her like a closing mouth. Branches scraped like teeth, caging her in obscuring darkness. She panted, scanning the momentary shelter for holes that left her vulnerable. Hedges rose on either side, their leaves slick with moisture, shining silver in the moonlight.
She massaged a sharp cramp under her ribs, her panicked mind scrambling for a plan.
Torches flickered in the distance, thousands of trembling specks on an endless terrain.
Breath beat out of her like a saw carving through wood. Hide or keep moving? Neither could guarantee her safety. Where was the grotto? How far east? She had yet to see a green lantern.
Hide.
She waited for the voices to fade into the distance. Bells rang every few minutes, usually after a collision that ended with a scream.
Another bell. Then another. They came in drips that started to trickle, and then the rush slowed, replaced by the smack of bodies meeting.
Cries of passion pealed into the night from unseen shadows. The shrubs concealed views but did little to muffle the moans.
As soon as Daisy’s breathing slowed and her lungs cooled, she started to move—cautiously and quietly as a garden snake slithering through the dark.
The air turned thick and sweet as she passed beneath an archway of climbing roses. Their cloying perfume masked the tinge of sweat that randomly tinged the briny air.
The terrain shifted, and she rolled her ankle, covering her mouth before a squeak of pain could escape. She shut her eyes and winced, swallowing down a howl.
Ridiculous shoes.
She rubbed her ankle, telling herself it could have been worse, then tugged the buckle loose. They were architectural marvels of impracticality—silver straps, thin as harp strings, with heels that tapered to points no wider than her smallest finger.
The tendon above her heel throbbed, and a pebble lodged between her toes. She flicked it into the dirt and dropped the shoe.
Clutching a thick vine for balance, she switched feet, but her unsteady hands made it difficult to work the tiny buckle. The ground was alive with obstacles, roots that grabbed and stones that shifted. Cold mud sucked at her soles as she unevenly steadied herself.
Frustrated, she yanked the thin, decorative strap, and it snapped loose. The shoe dropped to the ground, and she stilled at the sight of her scraped hands.
Blood.
The longer she stood, the more reality slipped in. Aches and scrapes. The actual list of risks and possible damages continued to grow.
She debated removing her pantyhose as branches cut into her arms and snagged her hair. A cool breeze sifted through the leaves, and she stilled, barely breathing.
The shadows shifted. Salt wafted from the invisible coast, catching the gardens’ perfume. She could smell the sea, but beyond the gardens, everything was black.
A chill rushed down her arms. The temperature had dropped.
Laughter rang out as a hunter approached from several meters away.
Daisy’s back stiffened. She stood perfectly still, silently, pushing her abandoned shoes aside with her toe. A tiny spider lowered from a web, weaving up and down mere inches from her eye, but she couldn’t risk moving to swipe it away. How many other things crawled close by? On her?
Her heart raced as the hunter passed. He swallowed back the last drop from a crystal tumbler, then threw it like litter into the gardens. His white mask caught the light, and Daisy’s breath hitched.
Tannh?user.
His shirttails hung loose, and his jacket was gone. Had one of those bells tolled for him?
She shivered, and her weight shifted. The delicate snap of a twig underfoot cracked like a small bone.
Tannh?user stilled and scanned the gardens.
Daisy stopped breathing.
His bright blue eyes molested every shadow, slow and thoroughly, then he moved on to the path.
Letting out a shaky breath, Daisy pressed a hand over her racing heart.
Too close.
She wasn’t safe here. She wouldn’t be safe until she found the green glow that would lead her to the grotto.
She slipped out of the hedges with crisp, precise steps, striding quickly through puddles of moonlight towards cover.
The grass was wet with evening dew, glittering blades that shined like tiny knives.
A shrill scream cut off with a masculine growl, and Daisy flinched. The shred of fabric cut through the air with visceral implication, but there was no time for sympathy.
She would feel everything tomorrow. The physical. The emotional. The shame of not risking herself to help others. The constant reminder of her inferiority here that would likely haunt her for the rest of her life.
“No, no, no—please!” A tribute screamed then sobbed.
The bell in the tower clanged again.
Another capture.
They were powerless here.
Risking herself to help others would only get her caught. The cost was too high, but the moral deficit she’d inherit from this night would play out for years to come. Her complacency had already begun mutating into unbearable shame.
Another bell. Each one a gut punch of awareness that lingered long enough to never let her forget the price others were paying while she ran away.
Her head filled with muddled thoughts. Guilt. Confusion. Fear. Urgency. Uncertainty. Panic. Terror.
Eyes wide, she searched every shadow. Large figures prowled the grounds, pulling back branches as they hunted out prey. The thought that they were on an island, surrounded by water, filled her with crippling dread.
“Gotchya!” A man yelled, several meters away, as he pulled a tribute from the gardens and tumbled her to the cold ground.
Daisy’s heart pounded like a physical pulse in her stomach. They were flushing them out. Driving them like prey. Running them to ground like little rabbits pushed from hidey holes until they would inevitably box them in against the coast.
There was no escape.
The tribute begged as the hunter ripped off her clothes. Her words fell on deaf ears.
Timber…
She said every word except the safe word. Her pleas did nothing to slow him down as he sank his body into hers, and the bell rang again.
Daisy dropped her gaze. Frozen by their proximity and forced to wait out the encounter.
The sounds were familiar now. Deliberate footsteps.
A thud. Hands scuffling. Clothing tearing.
Grunts. Gasps. Whispered commands. The surrounding, chaotic noise of others as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.
Nearby laughter—lively and wrong. Zippers catching.
Whimpers of defeat. Muted pleas. A harsh sob.
Promises both cruel and bartering. Lies.